


You Raise Me Up

by Elizabeth1985



Series: Cockles [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bobby Knows, Bottom Jensen, Cockles, Cockles Shipper Danneel, Insecure Jensen, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Misha makes Jensen feel better, Misha visits Austin, POV Jensen, Top Misha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:04:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4114900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeth1985/pseuds/Elizabeth1985
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One uneventful day in Austin, Jensen worries he's got nothing to offer beyond a pretty face. When Misha realizes that something's wrong, he finds effective ways to build Jensen's confidence back up. It sucks that he'll have to pay to get that rental car cleaned after though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Raise Me Up

**Author's Note:**

> “Anonymous said:  
> I loved Physical Reassurance! You wrote insecure!Misha very convincingly. I'm wondering if you could write a fic about insecure!Jensen, maybe towards Misha's intellect, humor, charm, involvement in social media and charities, etc. Jensen's praised the "intellect" of his costars before while labeling himself as "illiterate." Sometimes I wonder if he thinks he doesn't have as much to offer as Misha, that Jensen's really just admired for his prettiness, while Misha is admired for so much more?”
> 
> Thanks to the fantastic Beta and title chooser [Tennyo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tennyo/profile)

Jensen scrolls down the list of tweets and facebook posts, scouring the web for something to do or to say. It’s rare he has days where there’s absolutely nothing to do, but today is one of those. Danneel and JJ are out running errands for a few hours and all of his nearby friends are busy or spending time alone; including Jare and Gen.

Of course, there’s always his parents, but immediately his lip curls up and thinks he’d rather mow the lawn four times in a row than go spend a gorgeous afternoon listening to his dad judge his most recent activities in the media (or lack thereof). _You have to get out there!_ he’d say, and then qualify immediately: _But don’t say anything dumb now!_ What a confidence booster, that guy.

Everywhere he looks people are out doing things, saving the world and feeding the hungry and building schools in Nicaragua. Speaking of—

Jensen pats around the couch for his phone, the laptop on his thighs getting jostled around in the process. Huffing like the old man he is, he picks up the Macbook and puts it down on the coffee table and stands up to search the black leather couch more thoroughly. Digging in between the seat cushions he finds his cell and sees a message from Danneel asking whether they need ketchup or not. He quickly tells her they do; ketchup is a necessity!

Going back into his messages he pulls up Misha’s contact and laughs at their last bit of conversation which hilariously ends with, “ _Mish, I’m not letting you put me in a dress. MAYBE the thong_.”

In an effort to distract himself, he types out, “ _What would you say if I was wearing one of Danneel’s red thongs right now?_ ”

Knowing he isn’t likely to get a message back right away, he heads into the kitchen and tries to figure out what to do for dinner. BBQ is always a good choice, and just as he’s rounding up ingredients to make beef patties, his phone dings.

Mish: “ _I would say you are lying and, unfortunately I am busy or I would call you and force you to go and put those on_.”

He laughs. It’s amazing how well Mish knows him. “ _What are you doing?_ ” he types out.

“ _What am I NOT doing? GISHWHES, working on the Nicaragua thing, planning a fundraiser for something with Vicki. And one of my offspring is running around naked and screaming_.”

“ _Well they do take after you_ ,” Jensen writes back and then frowns. Misha is always busy doing reputable stuff, or reading complicated books or schmoozing his fan-base. Jensen, on the other hand, somehow manages to consistently say the wrong thing and even his solo shirt campaign thing had been less successful than he’d hoped. It’s why he’d suggested he and Jare partner it up. Mish never needs the extra support, he powers through with everything he ever does and he’s always successful.

“ _Sorry, babe. I’ll call ya later_ ,” Misha’s next text pings out and the added raunchy emoticons only manage to bring out a snort.

With his mind stewing over his lack of effect and overall diminished useful intelligence compared to most of his friends, Jensen digs his fingers into the ground up meat, egg, breadcrumbs and spices, and gets to work on the burgers. Half of his mind is wondering what to make JJ because she won’t eat a burger obviously, and the other half of his mind is wondering how the media-savvy gene passed him by. He wishes he could _do_ something the way Mish does. Feeling useless and ineffectual in the world is an annoying emotion. Most people go about their day and do what they do and they don’t ever worry about making a difference, at least not the way he feels like he should.

With his fingers coated in meat and the faint sound of smacking as he pats the burgers before placing them on the plate, he wonders if he should read more books and maybe take a go at the tumblr world. It seems popular to the fans and media in general. He’s got facebook and twitter, that’s pretty good, but maybe he can outdo Misha and Jared by breaching into that next media realm. Though, Misha’s warned him several times to steer clear. _Unless you want to see pornographic art and manips of the two of us, you and Jared, me and Jared, and god knows what else, I’d stay away._ Still, he thinks, it can’t be _that_ bad.

He hates that he always feels like he’s stumbling around and everyone else seems to have it all figured out. _Just a pretty face_ , he remembers. One of the very first things someone ever said to him when he first started in the business. It irritates him that the identifier latched on and never let go. He’s gone through his whole acting career feeling as though each accomplishment wasn’t worth anything more than the symmetrical lines of his face and his “sexy” ass.

The last burger splats down onto the plate, and he picks up the glass mixing bowl with his forearms and puts it in the sink and starts washing off his hands. With his hands clean and dry, he can really feel the disappointment eating away at him and in a poor attempt to stop it in his tracks he puts in a call to Mish, knowing the guy’s busy anyway, but hey, maybe he can help.

“Hey, what’s up?” Mish asks, worry carrying through, knowing that Jensen wouldn’t bug him if it weren’t important.

“I’m not busy and I was wondering if you needed some help,” he offers.

Misha’s quiet for a minute, but in the background he can hear screeching and Vicki calling to the kids to calm down while Dad’s on the phone. She must not realize it’s him. “I could always use some help, but no offence, you don’t normally offer.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I’m kind of useless when it comes to that sort of stuff, huh?”

Misha sighs. “No you’re not. But if you’re looking to be my slave for the day—Can I send you a list of potential GISH items for this year and you can scour through and cross off the ones that are most definitely illegal or have the potential to get me fired and/or locked away in a jail cell?”

Jensen laughs. “I don’t know, you look pretty good in handcuffs.”

“Mm… stop that line of thinking. We’re working. Now, I’ll email the list. It’s pretty organized just go through and make adjustments or change the text to red if you think it should be cut from the list.”

Jensen heads into the living room where he left the computer and plops down into the couch. “Okay. I’m on it.”

In a more serious voice, Misha zeroes in on his peculiar state of mind. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know, you seem… _off_.”

“Meh.”

“Meh?” Misha copies his indifferent shove-off and starts going on him, “Jen, I know it can be hard sometimes when we haven’t seen each other in a while but you know I don’t do well when you keep things from me.”

“It has nothing to do with us.”

“That doesn’t matter.” The background noise at Misha’s house gets muffled suddenly and he knows that his boyfriend moved into a quieter room to continue the conversation.

“You’re so persistent,” he complains.

“It’s what makes me thoroughly fantastic.” Misha says in an offhand way, and Jensen thinks he couldn’t be more right about that. It’s part of the reason he admires the man so much. “Get talkin’ or I’ll text Danneel and make her tie you down and get it out of you… or just make her tie you down and put panties on you. Oh my god we are so doing that tomorrow when I have more time.”

Jensen is already pulling up the email from Mish when he chuckles and shakes his head. “My god, the two of you will be the death of me.”

“Orgasmic death,” Misha qualifies and then he seems to sober again. “I’m serious though, tell me what’s wrong or I’m getting on a plane.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Mish. I’m just feeling kind of, I dunno, useless an-and dumb. I wish I was better at making a difference and all that crap like you do. You’re a freakin’ inspiration and some of us feel a bit caveman-like compared to you.”

“Are you kidding me?” Misha shoots back, half laughing to himself. “You’re incredible! You do tons of great stuff, you’re just not as vocal as I am.”

“Oh come on, don’t do that. I don’t do anywhere near the amount of good you do. I’m still fumbling with the whole twitter thing and dealing with fans. You’re so smooth and well-spoken and I feel like a damned ape next to you sometimes.”

“Jensen—“

“—Just forget it. I’ll go over these items and send it back when I’m done. I’ll talk to ya later. Love you.” Jensen hangs up before Mish can say anything else. It’s rude, sure, but it’s not the first time and he knows he’ll get shit for it later.

Sure as hell, Misha sends him a text almost immediately, “ _As if you fucking hung up on me. After all this time you still fight talking to me about ‘feelings’ and it really pisses me off. I’m gonna be busy for the rest of the day so go brood and mope for the night if that’s what you want. I could’ve cheered you up you know_.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and locks his phone, turning the screen black and shutting out the message. With a quick rub across his face, trying to reset his mind, he pulls the computer onto his lap and starts looking through the potential GISH items for this year. If nothing else, the ridiculous suggestions tease a faint smile from him and by the time Danneel and JJ get home, he’s adding suggestions of his own.

“How was your day?” she asks, kissing him and handing over JJ all in the same move. He grabs his kid and plunks her in his lap; the computer gets put back on the coffee table. Danneel peers over and sees the list. “Oh, these look fun!”

“Yeah, said I would give Mish a hand.” If only he could keep the edge in his voice from breaking through, but he can’t.

She laughs. “Is it penance for something you did wrong? You look upset.” Danneel’s comment is easily ignored as JJ starts to twist on his thighs, little kid feet nearly crushing his nuts.

“Hey there kid, you and mama have some fun today?”

“Yes! Mm-Cat!” she says and Jensen interprets her two-year old speak, “You saw a cat, huh?” She throws her arms in the air and her smile is infectious.

For the next hour, he and Danneel trade playing with JJ and getting the rest of dinner ready. In passes throughout their parental chores, Danneel does her best to work out of him what’s been bugging him all day.

“He friggin’ called you, didn’t he?” Jensen finally corners her beside the fridge, raising his eyebrows. JJ is squealing and running after Oscar on the other side of the island. It’s one of those bizarre dad-talents that a corner of his mind is reserved for worrying that she’s gonna trip and smack her head against the corner of the cabinet.

Danneel gives him a shy smile, a guilty one. “Maybe. He didn’t say much, he was busy but said you were feeling… kind of down?” The way she edges out the last bit of the sentence makes him wonder what word Misha had actually used. With the man’s superb vocabulary it was probably something he’d never even heard before.

Out of nowhere they hear a thunk and then the beginnings of a child’s wail. “I got it.” Jensen is glad for the interruption, though he feels a tinge guilty that JJ no doubt bumped her head.

He finds his daughter on the floor under the dining room chair, no doubt having chased the dog under it and then went to stand and probably cracked her little noggin on some part of the hard wooden chair. Her face is all red and scrunched up, tears dribbling from her eyes.

“Hey baby, c’mere,” he says, pulling her into his arms. She grips his shirt and sobs harder against shoulder, no doubt getting snot all over it. “It’s okay. You’re fine,” he reassures, rubbing his palm against her back. If only soothing the fans was this easy, he thinks.

Her broken sobs sputter to a stop and her little hand reaches up to touch his face, a sweet thing she does when she’s feeling sad or tired. “You think I’m smart, right?” he asks her quietly.

JJ moves to stare at him, her eyes still watery and face splotchy red. “Daddy, you sad?” she says. Jensen kisses her and answers his perceptive daughter. “Nah, daddy’s good.” He sets her down and she starts babbling to herself, walking away towards the living room where a pile of her toys sits in one corner.

They have dinner and do clean up, and other than some mindless chatter about plans for the upcoming weekend and remembering that they need to babysit for Jare on Friday night, the conversation is nice and light. His earlier frustrations about his evident ineptness fester in the back of his mind and he’s quiet because of it.

Around nine, long after JJ has gone to bed, Danneel heads in and passes him two glasses of wine. Confusion comes over him as she starts walking away. “Planning to come back?”

“Actually, nope, I’m gonna go up and read some lady porn,” she says with a strange lilt of her voice heading towards the staircase.

“Then why do I have two glasses of wine in my hands?” he asks, watching as she moves those sexy legs up each stair.

“Maybe the man standing in our foyer would like the other glass?” she teases just as she rounds up the top of the staircase and the soft pad of her footsteps carry her to their room.

Jensen sets the glasses on the coffee table and pulls himself out of the sunken depths of the couch and walks through the house to the front, turning just past the laundry closet and finds Misha standing in the centre of the foyer, a duffle bag hanging from his grip and a stern look on his face.

“Mish, what are you doing here?”

“Well I’ve come to cheer you up and to scold you at the same time. And somehow, I also need to fill out a thousand pages of disclaimers and legal forms for the school build. I figured I could do that here.”

Relief he hadn’t been waiting on sweeps over him and he rushes the last few steps and throws his arms around Misha’s familiar frame. The scent of him fills Jensen’s nose and he buries in against Misha’s throat. “You didn’t have to fly here just to cheer me up. I was being dumb. It was nothing.”

The bag Misha had brought drops to the ground and his arms squeeze around Jensen’s waist. “It was not nothing. I don’t like hearing you beat yourself up for no reason.”

“I’m fine,” he says, pulling back and framing Misha’s gorgeous face for a kiss. The press of their lips together is warm and comforting, and he nearly forgot over the last three weeks how good it is. It’s always better than the memory of it. There’s a quick tease of tongue that slips into his mouth, but Misha pulls back before he can draw it out and maybe take things into the living room.  

“No you’re not. C’mon,” he threads his fingers with Jensen’s and drags him towards the kitchen. Misha is familiar enough with their new-ish place that he drops his hand as they enter and beelines for the pantry cupboard, opens it and snags the box of TJ’s Speculoos on the top shelf. “I love how you keep these in the house.”

“They’re Danneel’s favourite too,” he explains.

“Oh I know,” Misha grins mischievously at him, “she and I spent a whole night demolishing a box and discussing how talented your tongue is.”

Jensen doesn’t even bother to say anything to that one. It doesn’t surprise him in the least that Misha and Danneel would basically trade sex stories about him. “Just don’t eat them all, she’ll be pissed.”

“I would never. Anyway, getting back to you. What brought on all this?”

Jensen groans, hating the way Misha digs in to all the feelings crap. There’s one aspect of his personality that he shares with Dean. Granted, he’s better at showing the love, that’s no problem. But discussing his own internal worries and confusions is a harder struggle. Blame it on the Texan roots and minimal emotional exchange within his own family. Fact is, he’s just not wired to spill his guts that easy. Knowing, however, that Misha is relentless, he tries. “I had nothing to do today and I tried to find something to do and then I ended up looking at all the great and amazing things that everyone else has done and it was kind of daunting and, fuck, I dunno, depressing sort of. But whatever, it’s not a big deal.”

“Jensen, you do incredible things. You brought to life an amazing character that has _literally_ saved lives. You are an amazing director! You sing, you play guitar, you fix things around the house, you’re an excellent artist even if you never let anyone see what you can do, you teach your daughter everything you know. You do charity work and you _do_ help people. What makes you think that you don’t?”

It’s annoying that he doesn’t know what to say. Misha isn’t necessarily wrong but he’s not getting it either. “I’m— _never mind_.” He’d been about to force out the words that he’d been told way back in the day, but it’s embarrassing and half of him wonders if Misha agrees on some level.

Misha places the cookie box on the counter and walks over to him, contemplation lighting up his eyes. The hands he knows well (hands that have built things from scratch) grab his waist and pull him in close. Serious blue eyes seize his focus and he can do nothing but stare back, wondering what Misha will say.

“Jensen, you’re not limited by how others see you. They’re brainless not to see everything that you are.”

Jensen can’t help but frown. “You have to say stuff like that because you love me.”

The hands warming his waist disappear and settle on either side of his face, tugging him down a little lower. “No, I love you because it’s all true; I love you because you’re not the construct of your looks. You’re enigmatic and captivating and quick-witted and so ridiculously kind and generous.”

The praise feels undeserved and he’s got the urge to twist away from Misha’s hold on him. “Mish, you’re building a fucking school for third-world kids living in poverty,” he counters.

“I won’t be building anything if I can’t figure out how to navigate the laws and liabilities of the whole thing. I’m not what you think I am either, I’m just banging around the planet trying to make a dent here and there. It’s not even a little organized. I’m all over the place and I fuck things up more often than not. And every time I have, you’re always there to help me find a solution.”

As they stand in the kitchen arguing the merits of his self-worth, Jensen wishes he could get away from his mind for a while. He thinks that if he had the opportunity to shut off his synapses, he’d feel better.

Misha seems to read his mind, one brow curving up. “Jensen, do you want me to take control?”

The words have him losing his breath already. Damn, it’s what he needs right now. He’s always been prone to getting stuck in his own mind, and Misha discovered years ago how to break him free. It’s not exactly precise and they have their own flow and system but it works.

“Yes,” he says, eyes closing.

“Okay, let’s go.” Misha spins him and grabs both his wrists at the same time and pulls them tight behind his back and shoves him towards the front of the house.

“Where are we going?” he asks, not sure if he’ll be given an answer.

Reaching around him and placing a palm over his mouth, Misha whispers against his ear, “Somewhere that you can relax and be free of your needless worries. Now, stand here and keep your arms behind your back and don’t turn around. I’m gonna run up and tell Danneel that I’m stealing you for a few hours, okay?”

“Yes.” Jensen can feel his insides tighten up, abs flexing for no reason.

The quick jumpy steps as Misha races up the stairs reach his ears and he can’t hear whatever murmured conversation they have.

The sound of his own beating heart must have drowned out Misha’s return because suddenly there’s a hand pressing into the centre of his back. “Go out into the rental; it’s unlocked. Backseat. And pull your pants down.”

Jensen can already feel the shift in his mind from worry to blissful automated response. He lets his arms fall to his sides and walks out the front door, leaving it open, and sees the Ford Fiesta rental parked behind his Jeep. As he expected, the doors are unlocked. He gets into the backseat, casting his eyes towards the front lawn and beyond, checking for people that might be trespassing onto his property. Once in the seat, he reaches for his waist and unpops the button of his jeans, slides down the zipper, and shoves his pants and boxers to his knees, and sits back down. The smooth black fabric is cool against his ass cheeks. Panic builds when he realizes the windows are in no way tinted and he’s just sitting there, cock out. He could probably get arrested.

It takes forever for Misha to finally leave the house, and he has the bag he brought with him and carries it to the car. Misha doesn’t say a word to him for the long drive as they progress further and further outside of the City. At a random gravel turn-off from a two-lane road, Misha steers the car over and bumps along the non-road for nearly ten more minutes. Jensen is getting uncomfortable and the centre seat in this dinky ass car is hard as fuck.

At yet another, narrower turn off, Misha takes a left and goes about two minutes more until he reaches a slightly open area surrounded by trees.

“Do you even know where we are?” he asks, looking around, wondering who the hell’s property they’re on.

“Get out,” Misha answers as he’s already climbing out of the car.

Jensen shuffles over the seat and opens the door, swinging both legs out at the same time, shackled by his pants.

As he stands up from the car, he can hear nothing but the subtleties of nature in the air and it instantly calms him. The gravel lane in this location is barely existent and weeds have mostly taken over. Some are long and tickle the sides of his legs.

Misha shuts the driver’s side door and moves closer, looking him over. “You want to let go?”

“Yes,” he answers immediately.

“Give yourself an intellectual compliment, and I’ll begin.”

Jensen grates his molars together and stares off towards the trees without answering. Misha drops to his knees and opens his mouth. Jensen’s heart goes faster and he tenses up waiting to feel a hot mouth on him when Misha suddenly clamps his lips shut and says, “I’m waiting.”

Fuck, so am I, he thinks. “I’m a half decent cook,” he says.

Misha rolls his eyes at his half-assed attempt, but he’s graced with the flick of a tongue anyway. “Put your arms behind your back.” Jensen complies, threading his fingers together where they rest against the cushion of his ass cheeks.

Misha flicks over the tip of his cock several times, and then stops. Jensen pants, not realizing how tight he’d been bunching up his muscles.

“Another.”

“Mish! I need you to clear my head, not make it worse.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Misha gazes up at him, and goddammit, Jensen falls for it.

“Yes. I do.” Racking his brain and chewing into his lip, he finally comes up with his next sentence, “I make sure I’m always there for my friends when they need me.”

“Very good,” Misha praises him and fuck if it doesn’t make him feel all proud of himself. It’s ridiculous. The sudden heat of Misha’s mouth wrapping around his cock pulls a groan from him.

The sucking and the heat dominate his entire world for about five whole minutes until Misha pulls off in a way that leaves him covered in spit, and the air rolls over his cock in a cooling way and he shakes.

“Another,” Misha demands and turns him around so he’s facing over the roof of the car.

The faint noise of Misha sucking his own fingers causes Jensen’s brain to fast forward to knowing what he’s about to get.

A soft whisper against his ear repeats the command, “What else makes you a dynamic, intelligent human being?”

Jensen strains against his own limitations, but a sense of pride trickles in. “I’m a better director than Bob,” he quietly lets out. It’s a secret of his, something he hasn’t even had the courage and self-assurance to say to Mish until now.

Misha stands up quick and presses against his back, fully clothed, the rigid length of his erection presses against Jensen’s naked ass and it feels amazing. “Fucking right you’re a better director. You understand the show better, you spend time figuring out what works best, you have intuition about scene direction and lighting and I am so proud of you for realizing that.”

Jensen isn’t given more than a quick second to let the compliment build him up when a slick finger is slid in between his ass cheeks and brushes against his nerve-sensitive entrance. He can feel his whole body tense up and it’s difficult to let some parts of him relax. Misha presses and teases, reaching around with his other hand to stroke along his now dry shaft.

As Misha rubs against him and kisses the back of his neck, his mind goes through the ways he can do more to help, the events he could help Misha with, the charities that matter to him that he could work harder to make better. And goddammit, he _is_ a better director than Bob. And even _he_ knows the fanbase better! He knows what they want.

Jensen suddenly laughs, and Misha speaks against his ear, “What’s so funny?”

Opening his mouth to answer, Jensen loses air instead at the feel of Misha pushing his finger inside, the intrusion familiar and just as enticing as the first time. “I-I was thinking about how I know better what the fans want and then I realized that they want this.” He laughs a little and his low chuckle becomes an elated one as Misha adds a second finger and twists inside of him. “Fuck.”

Teasing his cock with a barely there stroke of his fist, Misha scissors his fingers and then moves them in and out fast and hard. “Oh yes, they definitely want this.”

With his arms still awkwardly held behind his back, trapped against Misha’s belly, Jensen leans his face against the cool roof of the car. “I think-I think if the fans were here they’d want you to fuck me.”

“Hmm, you think so? I think they’d want me to draw it out some more.” Misha follows up his words with a third finger easing into him and with only spit slicking things up, he can feel the stretch reach that almost too much point, and Misha’s careful to move slow. It’s a bizarre sense of powerlessness that comes with this, and he loves it.

“Ya know what I’m best at,” Jensen whispers, his breath moving across the metal under his face.

“What’s that?” Misha’s voice is turning rough, his hands working Jensen to sheer rapture.

“Loving you.”

The hand on his cock squeezes hard; possessively, the very same moment that those three fingers push in as deep as they can and Misha shakes the hand that’s partially in him and rips a violent curse from his throat. “Yes, you’re damn good at that. And you’re getting a million times better at letting me love you. Would you like me to love you nice and hard now?” Misha bites into the meaty part of his shoulder and he almost comes right then and there onto the rental car backseat.

“Fuck, yes.” Deft fingers and a snug fist around his cock leave his body and Jensen nearly cries out in protest.

But his blood heats up as he hears the sound of a cap being flicked open. All sorts of soft smacking sounds reach his ears and he wishes he could turn back to watch Misha douse himself.

The cap is snapped back on and a dull thump sounds like Misha simply tossed it onto the grass. “Put your hands on the car,” he’s told. Jensen grabs the edge of the door frame on either side of his head and braces himself.

A lube-coated hand grabs onto his hip while the other presses down the cleft of his ass and circles around his rim, teasing him with shallow dips of his finger. “Should I fuck my talented boyfriend now?” Misha demands, rubbing and grabbing at his ass.

“Yes, yes,” he grates out, already on his way towards mindless delirium.

Misha teases him more with his fingers and the progressive shift from fingers to the feel of a blunt cock pressing against his ass is slow, he almost misses the change. The plush feel of it is hot, demanding to be let in and it’s not easy when he’s bursting with sexual tension.

“Relax,” Mish soothes, trailing his lips over Jensen’s neck, hands groping his ass and down the backs of his thighs. Taking a breath, he closes his eyes and feels Misha sink into him, his body giving in to the feel of it.

“Fuck…” he sighs, his mind gloriously blank. The pace builds slow and steady; deep, gentle thrusts ramp up to faster motions, rocking him in place.

Hearing the smack-smack-smack of his ass against Misha’s powerful hips is nearly as good as the feel of it. It was already a little warm out tonight and the added exertions of being so stupidly turned-on have forced him into a feverish sweat. Dimly, he’s aware that he’s being fucked on some random’s property in the middle of nowhere outside of Austin. His erection aches with the thought of being caught.

“Are you worried about getting caught?” Misha asks him, claiming his voice with a rough, sinful grind against him.

Jensen tries to choke out an answer, “Y-yes.”

“What—would you—say—if I—told you—this property—is—mine?” Each pause of his confession was punctuated with a delicious assault on Jensen’s lower half and it takes monumental effort to make sense of the disjointed sentence.

“What?” he stammers, clutching at the car, his breath steaming out over the shiny paint job.

“It’s all mine. Just like you.” Misha grips his hips tighter and fucks him hard and with an intensity that robs him of air and sight, the whole world reduced to his bones being rattled.

The tight pressure in his groin peaks, his balls pulling up against his body, his cock so hard it nearly hurts. “Mish, please, I need to—“

“Don’t come until I’m done,” Misha demands, his deep tone taking on that unforgiving harshness that can’t be denied.

Jensen does his best to hold off but he can feel the edge right there, his abs flexing hard, arms shaking. “Please, oh god, I can’t…” hold back, he’d meant to say, but he never manages to get the sounds out.

His ass is stretched open, taking the force of Misha’s prominent sex, working into him with the speed and commanding presence unlike anything else he knows. Each swift dragging motion, slippery and hot pushes him closer and closer to going over.

“Touch yourself,” Misha tells him, the control in his voice is roughened by a series of low growls and wild grunts. “Fuck, yeah, good and fast Jensen.”

All the air in Jensen’s lungs rushes out over the hood of the car as he grabs himself and moves his hand in choppy, quick jerks. It’s too much and he’ll finish if he keeps going but he doesn’t want to break for Misha.

“I’m… so close, just hold off a little longer. Give yourself that rough palm nice and hard babe, you deserve it.”

A sob of some kind makes its way out of his throat and he feels himself clamming up and about to go over. It’s too much. Misha being here and doing everything to make Jensen feel powerful and amazing is too much. The speedy pumps of his fist, the bone-shaking fuck-fest and mind-numbing power play and he’s gonna let go any second. He’s gotta let go…

Just as he’s ready to release the dam, Misha crashes against him and shouts out into the secluded space, his hips wildly thrashing against Jensen’s ass; a warmth spreads inside him and Jensen shamelessly cries out as he finally lets go, shooting jets of come allover the backseat of the fucking Fiesta. _Fiesta!!_ he sings inside his head, his brain delirious from lack of oxygen.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Misha sags against his back, planting sloppy kisses around the edge of his t-shirt collar. “I should’ve taken off more of your clothes.”

“Mmm, was good like this,” he slurs.

“Do you feel better, babe?”

“I feel like a million bucks!” Jensen says, groaning as he attempts to stand up straight. Misha lets out a soft chuckle as he pulls out and smacks Jensen on the ass.

“Well that makes two of us. I really hope I remembered to bring something to clean us up with.” Misha walks around with his pants undone and fishes through his duffel, arms buried in through the passenger window. He yanks out a sweater claiming that it will suffice.

“Vicki hates it when you go home with come on everything.” Jensen stands there as he gets wiped down.

“Oh please, she knows the man she married. Half our laundry is filled with come-stained clothes and towels and pillow cases. She simply loves to bug you, that’s all.”

They get settled, clothes in all the right places and he gingerly walks to the passenger seat and _very_ gingerly sits down. Oh, that was a good one, he thinks to himself.

A mid-fucking statement comes storming back into his mind. “Wait, wait, wait. Am I on acid or did you say you own this place?”

Misha busts up into laughter and turns to him from the driver’s seat. “I was wondering when you’d remember that. And yeah, I bought some land under a numbered company, hoping that, maybe we can have a cottage here or something. A place just for us and you can still be close to your family.”

Jensen stares at him, stumped and bewildered. He’s in complete awe and can’t begin to comprehend how amazing this man is.

“You really bought this for us?”

“Of course. Every now and then I scour for property in random places. Rome, too, by the way… ‘cause well… you know”—he winks—“anyway, I saw this place come up, it’s far enough away from everything that I knew we could do it outside and no one would notice.”

“Point made,” Jensen chimes in.

“And it was kind of an impromptu purchase and I wasn’t sure when to tell you, but I figured right in the middle of fucking you senseless was as good a time as any.”

“You forgot to factor in that I was basically delirious and barely made sense of what you were saying.”

Misha laughs. “True. Anyway, I know you used to draw when you were younger and I would love it if you designed a cottage for us.”

“What?!” Jensen stares at him as Misha starts the car and steers them back towards civilization.

“Come on, I’m serious. You have the skills to do it, so do it,” Misha smiles wide and encouraging.

The thought of crafting a house that is secretly his and Misha’s is exhilarating, and he feels like he can definitely do that. He _wants_ to do that. The ideas are already piling in and he can hardly stem the flow of new thoughts: _Hardwood, small spaces, big bedroom, fireplace…quaint._

_Theirs._

“Good God I love you,” he states loudly across the small width of the car.

Misha beams and licks his lips. “I love you too, and don’t get too excited, you’re gonna help me go through those forms when we get back.”

Jensen reaches over and takes Misha’s hand, threading their fingers together. “I’m all in. I mean that, the whole project. I want to help, Mish.”

It feels good to put his efforts to something that matters. And he might not have a stellar vocabulary or be as smooth with fans as Mish is, but he’s got his own merits. And if nothing else, at least they all agree he’s a damn better director than the real one. And pretty soon, he’s gonna bring to life a house of his own design; something perfect to capture future memories that started with tonight.

“Hey, I think you left the KY in the grass?”

Misha chuckles. “We’ll build the house on top of it!”

“A foundation of lube!” Jensen laughs harder.

“Where dreams are made!” adds Misha.

They both lose themselves to stupidity and easy laughter. All in all, Jensen’s pretty pleased with himself by the time they make it back to his house.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope ya'll enjoyed that :) Comment/Kudos if you liked it.


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